


FEELING CALLED LOVE

by britpop



Category: Blur, Britpop - Fandom
Genre: Love Triangle, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2095620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britpop/pseuds/britpop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bizarre Blur love triangle between Alex, Graham, and Damon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mixed Up

**Author's Note:**

> Named after a Pulp song!

They've just finished their closing song, Graham is beyond relieved that this is all over. It was a good gig, it really was, the audience was very active and Damon seemed to be a bit drunk, meaning that he was rolling around and flinging himself into the crowd more than usual. That was always fun to watch, however the problem wasn't Damon’s antics or the loud crowd - it was the constant staring.  
And not from the people watching the show, either. It was from Alex, who would eye him as he moved his hips on the other side of the stage, every time they made eye contact Alex would smirk and look away. He hated to say it, but it really went straight to his cock. For some unknown reason all those sways and smirks and winks were really starting to get to him.  
But on the other hand, every time Damon hopped over to Graham’s side of the stage and put his arm around him his heart skipped a beat and he had to focus extra hard on the notes he was playing, scared that he’d fuck up or something.  
Enough of that, though. The show was over and now he could just sneak off to the bus, maybe have another drink or two and fall asleep. Finally. 

Graham placed his guitar gently against a speaker, nodded to the crowd and tried to walk as quickly as he could to the back. Finally, I can finally go to sleep. This is going to be amaz-  
“Grrrraahaam!!” Damon threw his arm around him, practically jumping on top of him and Graham stumbles, trying to find something to grab onto so he wouldn't fall.  
“Yes!? Yes, what, what, yes?” He keeps walking, try to go faster so that way Damon will leave him alone. Damon laughs at nothing and kisses his cheek, causing that almost-sick feeling to start up in his stomach again.  
“So there’s an after party..” He’s trailing off, hoping Graham will get the hint, and he does, but chooses to ignore it. “And, I was thinkin’ that, maybe we co-”  
“Ayy, Dames!” Someone pulls Damon away and he holds onto Graham, trying to drag him off with him, but eventually loses his grip and is forced into a conversation with a drunk, smelly sound worker.  
Graham looks down at the floor and stuffs his hands into his pocket, trying to melt into the forming crowd of staff. He makes his way around the stage and into the room marked ‘Dressing Room’ with sharpie. Classy, he thinks to himself.  
When he enters the room Alex is seated beside the sink, on the counter with his top off and combing his hair. Graham halts, closing his eyes and blindly continuing on, trying to get to his suitcase.  
Alex watches Graham’s reflection in the mirror, trying his best not to laugh at him.  
Graham was reaching out in every which way direction, he falters a bit and then stumbles. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut despite feeling himself falling and puts out his arms, pressing his hands into the brick wall to keep himself up.  
“You know, mate, I really don’t care if you see me shirtless.”  
Graham opens his eyes, staring down at the suitcase below him with wide eyes.  
“It’s not like I haven’t seen you before.”  
His heart pretty much stops beating at this point and he quickly throws open his suitcase and pulls out whatever shirt he can find and rushes off into the bathroom.  
As he’s pulling on his shirt he can hear Alex talking to someone, probably Dave or something. They’re talking about him, he assumes, wondering where he is or asking questions about his behavior, which makes him panic so he hurries up.  
After fumbling around with the door knob, he bursts into the room and declares (louder than he expects); “I AM HERE.”  
Dave stops mid-sentence and looks up at him, Alex turns away from the mirror for the first time in minutes and looks at Graham.  
Maybe they weren't talking about him.  
Thankfully, the King of Dramatic Entrances himself, comes through the door to the entry door like he owns the place and going on about some party and girls, immediately taking the attention off of Graham who sort of backs himself into a corner after that.  
Damon explains to the three that there’s going to be an after party, the one he mentioned earlier, where there will be expensive alcohol just for them and a lot of attractive birds looking for a ‘fun night’. Immediately Alex is in, he begins to change into some nicer clothes as soon as he hears the words ‘birds’ and ‘alcohol’. Dave excuses himself, saying he’d much rather stay in and they let him, because Dave can get away with that and isn't the interest of not one but two of his own band mates.

A little less than an hour later Graham is being forced to some party he doesn't want to go to where the music is shit and there are drunk people everywhere, throwing themselves at him and breathing in his face. He’s leaning against the wall beside the bar, glass in hand and watching strangers and friends alike crawl all over each other in a drunken haze.  
Graham takes another sip and begins to feel a bit of a buzz coming on, this is his third or maybe fourth drink tonight and he intends on drinking so much that he blacks out and doesn't have to deal with anymore annoying people.  
He’d much rather be home, sitting on his couch, hunched over the coffee table drawing out his thoughts on a piece of paper. Or in his bedroom playing his favorite songs on guitar and going through his records, or maybe talking to some of his artist friends.  
Graham closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall, imagining himself walking through a three story art museum, all alone. He stands in front of masterpieces for minutes, examining every brush stroke and contemplating the meaning behind every little detail. He looks all the way up the ceiling, up at the window there and the sun shines down on his face. Warm and quiet. 

He’s pulled away from his daydream by a totally plastered Damon (of course), who has just been pushed into Graham in a playful manner by one of his friends that Graham doesn'tf recognize.  
Damon giggles and lets himself fall into place beside Graham, resting his head on his shoulder. Graham’s heart does that weird fluttering thing again and he considers going to the doctor to get that checked out, he might have heart problems for all he knows.  
“Oh, Graham..” Damon puts an arm around Graham’s waist and snuggles up to him.  
Graham can feel his heart plummet into his stomach and now his tummy is churning and he’s all kinds of nervous again. So he finishes off his drink and hopes that’ll show those confusing feelings who’s boss.  
“Graham, Graham, Graham, you know what?”  
“Mmm what, Damon?” He’s biting down on his lip at this point, why is he so close? Why is he talking like that? What’s going on? Why is what’s going on going on? What?  
“Why do we even go to these parties? Like, like, why?” Damon leans away from Graham, arms still around his waist and Graham hopes he gets back to where he used to be soon before he has to do it himself.  
“Because you want to come to them.” He thinks about cutting the conversation short and requesting another drink, but Damon replies too quickly for him to get a word in.  
“Well, well at first I do, but.” Damon’s arms slip away from him and his hands begin making gestures as he talks. Graham feels like he might just shed a tear because of that.  
“But as the night goes on I find myself just yearning to go home, to bed, to to ‘shhh’ you know?”  
“To shh.” Graham repeats, eyes scanning the club again.

He spots Alex chatting up some girl who’s tossing her hair this way and that, swaying from side to side to the song with a beat that’s absolutely impossible to dance to. He notices that Alex has spotted him as well and is, in fact, not looking at the girl, but is instead looking at Graham who’s got Damon reciting some ridiculous poem to him that sounds sort of like the kind of poetry you write when you’re in the 6th grade and torn up over ‘true love’ even though you’re, like, twelve and have no idea how difficult loving another human being can truly be.  
Alex seems to have realized that Graham has caught him staring at him again and handles it how he handled it when they were on stage, by smirking, winking, and then returning his attention to what he had originally been doing.  
Damon shoves him pretty weakly and Graham redirects his mind to Damon.  
“What do you say, Gra?”  
“What?”  
“To the hotel?” Damon’s smirking, too. Oh no.  
“Erm, okay.”


	2. The World is Huge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I wrote half of this at 4 in the morning. I hope it's good, I'm not too sure how to feel about it.

In all honesty, when Damon had asked Graham to his hotel room, he had no idea that Damon was looking to get laid. So when he found himself with his back against the wall and Damon's fingers running through his hair, he was a bit taken aback  
However he did still kiss back, softer and less messy than Damon, but still a kiss nonetheless. Damon pulled away from him and began taking off Graham's trousers, which caught him off guard.  
Soon enough, he was lying on his back, trousers thrown across the room and watching Damon undress in front of him. His stomach began to get all sick-feeling again, his heartbeat picking up as Damon sat himself down on Graham's hips, pressing them together.  
Graham held back any and every noise out of embarrassment, but Damon unashamedly lets out a louder-than-necessary moan.  
Damon's leaned forwards, placing several kisses down Graham's cheek and jawline, then down to his neck where he began to lick and suck a bit. He wanted to mark Graham up, leave him with hickeys and scratch marks, something to keep this night lingering in his mind for several days afterwards. It's driving Graham absolutely crazy, he was now moving his hips up slightly against Damon, causing him to make these quiet squeak-like noises.  
"Take your shirt off for me, Gra."  
Graham gulped, closing his eyes tightly. "No, please." He pulled his shirt down to cover himself a bit more, "I don't want my shirt off.." He glanced down at himself, rubbing against Damon, and continued. "Or my briefs, can, can we, can.."  
"How about," Damon sat up and Graham watched him carefully. "We'll stay just like we are, okay?"  
He nodded his head, rubbing his eyes.  
"And I'll just.." He trailed off, slowly pressing his cock against Graham's through their trousers.  
Graham's back arches upwards slightly and Damon's hands work themselves underneath Graham's shirt. He keeps his hips moving as he runs his thumb along Graham's nipple, making him moan softly.  
His hands moved back down to his waist, where they stayed as Damon picked up the pace, head tilted back and practically groaning at the friction. 

Everything was perfectly fine, Graham’s hands grasping at the bed sheets and Damon is showering him with kisses, all good.  
That is until he could very clearly hear people on the other side of the door, Graham immediately sat up and pushed Damon back a bit.  
“What the hell, Gra?” Damon leaned back on his palms and Graham sat up, pulling the blanket over himself.  
“Listen, listen, shh.”  
Damon sighed, shutting up and keeping an ear out for whatever it was Graham was hearing. Someone had just very confidently declared that they are the king of the hotel, very obviously Alex, followed by several giggles. Presumably from some girls he brought home.  
“Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Graham scrambled up, darting across the bedroom and frantically pulling on his pants.  
"What's the problem, Graham?" Damon ran his fingers through his hair, watching his friend search for his shoes. "I think I'd be rather interesting if they walked in on us."  
Damon laid down on his side, waiting for Graham to say something in return.  
"Ha ha, very funny, I'm, I'm not interested in that, not at all, nope!" He scrunched up his face a bit, shaking his head as he made his way out the door. He could hear Damon groan as he shut the door behind him.  
Further down the hallway, Alex was leaning against the wall between him and Graham’s rooms, chatting up the two girls. He seemed to notice Graham standing there looking disheveled and he nodded to him as they made eye contact. Graham shoved his hands into his jean pockets and looked down at the ugly carpet, walking past them without a word.  
“Goodnight, Graham.” Alex said to him before he closed the bedroom door.

 

“Anyway, what I’m saying is that they could have at least, like, I don’t know, made an attempt.”  
It’s 3PM and they’re at a diner of sorts, sitting around and listening to Damon complain about the party last night. Even though he was the one that insisted on going.  
“What were they playing that upset you so much?” Alex asks, poking at his food with the fork.  
He’s sitting beside Graham, their thighs are pressed together and Graham is staring out the window. Everything seems to move so fast sometimes, outside the cars are just zooming past and people are crossing each other’s paths, walking across other people’s lives without even realizing it. Somewhere in the world a girl runs into a boy, causing him to drop his very important papers, and they touch as they hurry to pick them up. They look into each other’s eyes and it’s love at first sight. Somewhere in the world a boy kisses his best friend and realizes he’s gay, maybe they grow up together and adopt some children, maybe the best friend doesn’t take it too well and they never speak again. Who knows. The point is that there are a million other things happening right now that are life changing, every person on the street is, for a brief moment, apart of a life that they know nothing about. Everyone is caught up in their own little world. The man in the nicely fitting suit purchasing books across the street has no idea what the shabby looking cashier with his right cheek scarred is going through, the woman that just ran away from the taxi instead of paying has no idea the effect that may have on the driver’s life, and Graham has no idea what their waitress with the long blonde hair and blue eyes is going through. For all he knows she has two children she’s working to support, but he wouldn't know a thing about it.  
It’s moments like this when he’s staring out the window, people watching, that he realizes just how small he feels inside. The world is gigantic, constantly moving, constantly working, a bee is dropping seeds on the ground as it passes and it grows into a flower in some months, only to be pollinated by another bee some time later and the cycle repeats. Future legends are picking up a guitar for the first time and teaching themselves the chords to their favorite song and Graham is sitting in a diner with his mates who are growing farther and farther apart from him.  
He looks over at Damon who’s now going on about Pulp, something that has Alex’s full attention and Dave has his head against the windowsill, beginning to fall asleep. 

“Jarvis, though, Jarvis.” Alex says, a thought that doesn't really seem to be connected to what Damon had been saying.  
“What about Jarvis?”  
“He’s something else, I like that bloke a lot.”  
Damon nods and takes a bite out of his already cold sandwich.  
“I like his lyrics a lot, I think I could get lost in them.” Graham pitches in, figuring he’s been quiet for too long now.  
“Hey! Graham’s come back from Mars!” Damon laughs, smiling at Graham.  
“Welcome back, Graham!” Alex puts his arm around him and hugs him close, Graham blushes but doesn't say anything.  
“Naw but, but yeah, his lyrics are brilliant.” Damon is talking with his mouth full again.  
“Don’t the little booklets always say something about not reading the lyrics?” Alex asks.  
“Yeah, they, they say, they say um..” He’s silent for a moment, making a face that meant he was trying to think. He imagined his copy of ‘Different Class’. “Oh! ‘Please do not read the words whilst listening to the recordings’, that’s what they say.”  
“There ya go,” Alex’s hand trails down Graham’s side and ends up on his thigh. “Why do you think they say that?”  
“Who knows.” Damon replies as he continues to eat.  
Alex watches Graham from the corner of his eye and Graham feels tiny. His hand moves between Graham’s thighs and he slouches down against it.  
Dave brings a woman dressed in a large orange fur coat to Damon’s attention and Damon makes a witty comment about Liam Gallagher. Something along the lines of, ‘Is that the bloke from Oasis? I want his autograph!’  
Alex’s fingers begin to rub against Graham’s cock through his trousers and Graham closes his eyes for a moment, trying to pull off the ‘I’m falling asleep’ look as to make it seem less noticeable to the other two. Alex leans over and whispers to him; 

“You’re so lovely.”


	3. Game Shows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graham and Alex spend some time together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a gralex fic it's nothing but gralex that's it just gralex. this one took a really long time because of course it did but i got it all together and it's done now so :^)

Graham sits at the edge of the bed, finishing off his last bottle of champagne. That makes for the third bottle in the past three hours, not a new record but certainly notable. There’s some game show on television, something where you spin a big wheel and have to do something relating to whatever it lands on. The host is terribly obnoxious, he’s got on a too tight blue suit and has a plastic face. His smile resembles that of a wax figure’s, or perhaps it looks like someone’s got two hooks on either side of his face and is pulling them.  
He giggles at the ridiculous joke the host makes as he spins around to reveal the challenge that’s hidden behind a red velvet curtain, it cuts to the woman who has to complete the challenge and her eyes are as wide as the moon.  
“Oooh my!” She exclaims and Graham giggles again.  
“Now watch carefully, this isn’t as easy as it seems.” Says the host, winking.  
Graham winks back.  
There’s a wooden puzzle placed on a table with a red tablecloth over it, the woman sort of waddles over to the table and begins to be making odd sounds that indicate she’s thinking very hard about the ‘challenge’.  
The camera shows an aerial view of the puzzle, it’s a maze. He studies it carefully and when he realizes he can't quite follow it with his eyes, he gets up from the bed and sits in front of the television. He’s on his knees, tracing the path through the maze with his fingertip, soon enough he’s found the end and the woman still hasn’t.  
“Well that was easy!” He tilted his head, watching as the woman messed up for the second time. “What was that? That’s so obviously not the way to go!” He leans back on his palms, groaning when the woman screws up again. “Really?”  
Her husband isn’t too bright, either as he messes up on the first try.  
“What on earth even in this show? This is so blo-”  
His complaining is interrupted by a knock at the door. He gets up on his feet and practically falls over himself getting to the door.  
“Graham?” It’s Alex, standing there, leaning against the door frame with his hair all messed up and his arms crossed.  
“That’s me!” He replies, flashing a big smile.  
Alex can’t help but smile back at him. “What are you doing up so late, love?”  
The way the word ‘love’ rolls off his tongue makes him weak in the knees, Alex really is so stunning. He can’t think why he hasn’t realized this until now, he really is so pretty.  
“I’m.. I am, I am watching a game show, love.” He tries to sound like Alex when he says ‘love’ but it just doesn’t come out right and Alex begins laughing at him instead of being wooed, like he had planned.  
“What?? What!” He’s absolutely baffled, he said that perfectly. Alex should be swooning right now, why is he laughing at him? “What’s so funny?”  
“Nothing, Graham, nothing.” He makes a swatting gesture to him, “C’mon, get back in your room.”  
Graham shakes his head and turns around, jumping when Alex places his hand on his shoulder and follows him in. “You’re so kind, love.”  
Alex laughs again, harder this time and Graham just doesn’t get it.  
“What, Alex? What! What’s, what’re you doing that for?”  
“You’re just silly, Graham.” He keeps a hand between his shoulder blades as a means of making sure he doesn’t fall. “That’s all.”  
Alex sits Graham down on the bed. "C’mon, Gra. Time to go to sleep.”  
Graham sighs and lies down, taking off his glasses and snuggling up to the pillow. “Mm, this bed is not comfortable, Alex. As a matter of fact, it is the exact opposite of comfortable.”  
“Mine isn’t too comfy, either.” He replies, pulling the blanket over Graham. “But we’ve both got to go to sleep despite it.”  
Alex turns off the lamp beside the bed, leaving only the television on and begins to make his way towards the door.  
“Wait, Alex, Alex.” Graham sits up, eyes half open.  
“Hmm?”  
“I, why don’t you.. “ He trails off, looking away in an effort to make himself seem less like a dork. “Spend the night here with me.” Graham lies back down, patting the space beside him. “Please?”  
Alex smiles at him, standing there and watching him for a few moments before deciding that he might as well join him. 

 

The restaurant Alex takes Graham to appears to be a vegetarian restaurant, which immediately makes Graham anxious. What the hell do vegetarians even eat?  
It was called Soup or Salad and there are gigantic carrots and broccoli statues on the roof.  
"Come on, it's gonna be good." Alex held onto Graham's hand and led him inside. It took a bit to register, but eventually he realized it was some sort of buffet.  
"What do you eat here?"  
"Soup or salad." He replied, handing Graham a plate and a tray. "There's also Mac and cheese, which I highly recommend as it is brilliant."  
"You're just saying that because it's cheese."  
"I don't say that about just any cheese." Alex smiles at him and ruffles his hair, "Only special cheese." 

Graham takes a seat across from Alex as to observe the people going through the buffet line. A woman dressed in a very simple yet complimentary black and white two piece suit was scolding her kid about stuffing his hand into the lettuce section.  
Alex hadn't taken his eyes off Graham since they sat down and was currently shoveling salad into his mouth, while staring at Graham. Needless to say, it was very awkward.  
He thinks back to the first time he caught Alex watching him, backstage after an earlier gig whilst Graham was changing. Alex's eyes were following him as he moved, just as they were now, observing Graham like Graham observed passer by every day.  
The look wasn't that of interest like Graham's to the people, it was caught somewhere between lust and love and it made Graham's heart plummet to his knees. 

A few minutes of awkward silence and two spoonfuls of macaroni and cheese later, Graham decides to ask about it.  
"So, um."  
Alex blinks, finally looking away from Graham for a few moments before returning his attention right back to him.  
"I've noticed.. that.." He trails off, rubbing his eyes as he processed his thoughts. "That you're very keen on looking at me."  
Alex laughs, very nervously, and his face goes red. “I suppose I have a bit of a staring problem.”  
Graham smiles, figuring it’s better off left alone. I mean, it isn't like it was going to go any farther than looks, it was just some flirting no.. touching…  
Fuck.  
Just the other day Alex was pretty much about to give him a hand job, in a public place, with his band mates across from them, and he’s acting as if this whole situation was nothing more than just looks. Either Graham actually really liked Alex back, too or he was just so starved for god knows what that he was letting his band mates almost shag him.  
“Holy shit.”  
Alex looks up from his salad, “What?” He asks with a mouth full of lettuce.  
“N- Nothing, this macaroni is really good.” He forced a smile and ate another spoonful of it.  
“Told you.” 

_Just don’t think about it, Graham. Don’t worry yourself with things like this, this kind of stuff is supposed to happen when you’re in a band. It’s just like Damon always says, y’know, like, about pop people or whatever. It’s just all good fun._

“You are very cute, though, Graham.” Alex is beginning brushing crumbs off his lap, “Most times I just can’t help but look at you.”


	4. The Stars You Look Up To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graham gets lost after sneaking out of an after party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is longer than the others, it's also a lot more emotional than the other three. the song that graham is singing is there is a light that never goes out by the smiths because it just seem fitting.

It's four thirty in the morning and Graham has managed to sneak away from the rest of the band. It had rained earlier in the day and it left large puddles of water stretching down the block and leaking onto the streets. No sound but the trickling of water and the chirping of crickets. Sometimes his friends were too rough with him, always shoving him around and speaking to him in raised voices. He understood that it was all in good fun, but he was a lot more sensitive than the rest of the them and at times he took their teasing to heart. 

Before they'd left the hotel, Damon made a joke about how he can't believe they'd gotten him out of his room and it made him just want to crawl back underneath the covers again.  
At the pub Graham sat alone at the bar drinking countless glasses of various alcohols, running over the joke in his head. Were they implying that he was a drag to be around? That they didn't enjoy his company because of his down in the dumps he always was? Did he bother them? Was he bringing them down?  
He'd looked over his shoulder at them, all laughing together and enjoying the company of mutual friends and strangers. They didn't seem to mind his absence at all, as a matter of fact, they seemed to be happier without him there. So once he got that in his head, he started going over than idea over and over again until he’d decided that it must be true. He payed for his last drink and pushed through the crowd.

He was now stumbling down the sidewalk, hands tucked into his pockets, feeling the heavy breeze on his skin and admiring the stars above him.  
Up there in space there’s total silence, not a sound anywhere but back down on earth where it seemed the entire world expected more out of him than he could give.  
In space there are no friends that give you disappointed looks when you want to stay in, or demanding record labels, or people telling you to try harder when you’re already giving the best you can, when you’re already trying your very hardest.  
He wanders down off the sidewalk and begins to walk in the road, trudging through the rain water and swaying from side to side.  
He quietly sang to himself as a car zoomed past, missing him by an inch;  
“Take me out, tonight.. Where there’s music and there’s people who are young and alive..” 

 

"No! Don't fucking touch me!" Damon pulled his arm away from Dave, who was trying to get him to calm down.  
"Damon, Damon, listen to me."  
"No, no, no! No, I need to find Graham." 

This had been going on for around ten minutes now, Damon realized about an hour before the venue closed that Graham had gone missing and immediately went into a frenzy trying to find him. He’d asked the bartender and each person still remaining in the pub if they had seen if at least ten times, he went up to the attic area and into the back room, practically tore the floorboards off the ground looking for him.  
Dave and Alex dismissed it as one of Graham’s usual stunts, wandering off because something caught his eye or just going back home. Or, as the bartender joked; “He’s gone home with some girl!” Which warranted a slap from Damon, almost resulting in him being kicked out.  
Alex had left as soon as the venue closed, with two girls on each arm. His only champagne slurred comment on the situation was, "He'll turn up somewhere."  
To which Damon retorted; "In a fucking morgue!" 

 

An hour after Alex's departure and Damon is sitting on one of the metal chairs out on the patio in front of the club, his knees drawn to his chest. "I need to go find Graham." He moved to get up again, only to have Dave push him down into the seat again.  
"Graham is fine, Damon." He explained, keeping his hand pressed down on his shoulder. "He's probably gone to the hotel."  
Damon made a quiet grunting noise, placing his chin on his knees and pouting.  
They stayed like that for a few more minutes, Damon sulking in his seat and Dave sitting across from him trying to reassure him that Graham was safe at the hotel.  
"You know what, Dave?" He looked up at him with softer eyes.  
"What, Damon?"  
"You're right." He stretched his legs out in front of him, "Graham is probably at the hotel sound asleep right now."  
"Hmhm," Dave got up from his seat and brushed off his laps. "Can we go back now?"  
"Yes, I'm awfully tired.." He got to his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets.  
Dave let him out of the patio area, into the parking lot. "I mean, I know you're very concerned about Graham all the time. You care about him and whatnot, b-"  
"Bye, Dave!"  
He turned his head to where Damon had been standing to see him darting down the street. 

 

Graham has found himself almost in tears at the side of the road, dragging himself down unlit streets, accompanied only by crumbling buildings. Faded words of peace and love that had been written to encourage were now left as a sad reminder of how beautiful the town he'd ended up in had once been.  
He knew that he was not far from where he'd left as he recalled seeing several shop signs just a few hours ago, but still felt awfully terrified of where he'd end up if he didn't get back fast.  
His small voice continued to timidly sing the same song, even though he was pretty sure it ended about two minutes ago.  
He hugged himself tightly, closing his eyes and trying to silence his racing mind.  
“Driving in your car.. I never never want to go home..”  
He thought about Damon, about his pale blue eyes and the beads around his neck. In his opinion, they were the most childish things about him. Those eyes told everyone everything, even if he didn’t say it and the fact that he still wore the necklace his mother made years after she made it, said something about the youthful innocence that still lay inside.  
Graham missed the quiet hours where they’d lie in his backyard side by side, looking up at the clouds and telling each other stories. It was some sort of improv technique that Damon had been taught at school, coming up with fairy tales or adventure stories helped exercise your brain and helped keep you more attentive.  
Or at least that’s what Damon told him, it was probably just something Damon did to keep himself amused. Or maybe he just liked to tell stories. Not that he minded, Damon was an excellent storyteller and Graham still wishes to this day that Damon would tell stories like that to him more often.  
He’s always had such a way with words, he always knew how to fix them to where they perfectly illustrated the point he was trying to get across. Graham could always picture the scene Damon was describing very vividly as Damon’s stories were always very detailed.  
It had frustrated him how hard it was for him to come up with good stories. 

As he recalled their childhood, he sniffled, feeling the tears coming on again.  
Oh this was so miserable, walking aimlessly through an unfamiliar town, lost and lonely with no one to share his memories with.  
If he listened closely, he could faintly hear footsteps getting nearer and nearer, his mind playing tricks on him, trying to make him feel worse. His head always had a way of making him feel bad, tearing at the little things that made him happy and convincing him that they were irrelevant.  
Just to please his mind, he stopped and looked back and saw nothing there but more street and.. And Damon, running down the sidewalk as fast he could.

“Graham! Graham, Graham thank god, thank god.. “ He came to a stop in front of him and bends down, his hands on his knees. He was panting, trying to catch his breath.  
Graham could almost taste the alcohol in his breath when he’d finally straightened himself up and began to speak again.  
“I thought you’d gone and, and flung yourself into traffic or something.” He laughed, placing his hands on his shoulders. “I’m, I’m..” Deep breath. “I’m so glad you’re all okay though, right?” He pulled him into a tight hug.

Graham didn’t respond for a few moments, too busy trying not to break down. His breathing was becoming uneven and it was growing difficult to see with the tears building up in his eyes.  
“Damon..” He choked out, prompting Damon to pull away,  
“Graham.. Oh no..” Damon’s gaze showed nothing but honest concern for him, he looked as if he was going to cry because he was crying, and that made Graham’s heart completely shatter.  
And then the tears began to flow and he was dwindled down to a sobbing mess, eyes shut tight and head bowed.  
“Graham, Graham, oh god.” 

Damon gently guided Graham to a bus bench not too far away from where they were and sat him down, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”  
“No it’s not, it’s not Damon, it isn’t okay.” He shook his head, starting to shake.  
“Yes, Graham, yes it is I promise it is.” Damon put an arm around him, holding him close to his body. “I promise everything is alright.”  
“I’m so scared, Day, I’m so scared.” He continued to shake his head, his breathing becoming even more unsteady. “You guys, you don’t need me around. I’m so upsetting, I try so hard not to be but I really can’t help it at all. I don’t want you or Alex or Dave not to like me, but I understand how you would, I’m so terrible, I’m so weak, I know I am. I know it, I know it.”  
“Graham, stop, stop it, please.” Damon was getting frantic now.  
“I try so hard not to make you lot feel bad like I do, but I’m so confused about everything, I’m so weak and I know it.” 

Damon took Graham’s hands in his, holding onto them as tight as he could. G\  
He looked up at Damon, their eyes meeting.  
“I’m so sorry, Damon, I don’t mean t-”  
“Graham, I love you.”  
“What?”  
Damon took a deep breath and swallowed hard. 

“I love you, Graham Coxon.”


	5. A Poorly Written Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graham over thinks his life while drinking one night in the van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i guess this fic takes place in nov/dec of 1995 or jan/feb of 1996, probably nov/dec of 1995. the nme cover, the headlines, the noel gallagher quote saying he wants damon to die are all real.. ? like that happened. so now there's facts in here, spooky. the lyrics at the end are from "fake plastic trees" by radiohead.. the bends was released mar. 8th of 1995 so i swear i don't have my dates fucked up. "talk tonight" was released apr 24 1995 so i'm like 100% sure all of this matches up. also i think i wrote damon pretty mean spirited in this but yknow... party hard

Damon, derived from Greek damao meaning “to tame.” In Greek mythology Damon and Pythias were close friends and when Pythias was sentenced to death, he was allowed to temporarily go free if Damon took his place in prison. Pythias returned just before Damon was going to be executed in his place, and the king was so impressed by their loyalty to each other that he let Pythias go. 

When Graham was younger and he read the passage about his best friend’s name, he thought that it was sort of ironic. They’d promised each other that if they were to do anything concerning music, that they would bring the other with them.  
And sure enough, here they were. In a band together, doing what they love just as they had promised each other years before.  
However, unlike Pythias and Damon’s relationship where they both got to live and were pardoned by the king, Graham felt like he was still on death row.  
Damon seems to be perfectly content getting drunk and being surrounded by adoring fans. He’d always been somewhat of a ladies man, no matter how little “ladies” he actually got, he liked to talk about them like he knew everything. Everyone wants Damon, everyone swoons when he smirks and faints when he winks. And Damon loved the attention, loved being adored and especially loves to bicker.  
One thing Damon apparently loves to do is pick fights and bicker, everything is a contest to see who comes out on top and at first it was funny but now it’s just exhausting. He’s tired of opening up the paper to see the headline “Blur vs. Oasis: Who Will Win?” or “The Battle of Britpop” or that ridiculous NME cover with Liam and Damon on the cover reading “British Heavyweight Championship, Blur vs Oasis” because honestly, who even cares? Why is this suddenly about some stupid band rivalry? He’d been under the impression that this was about music.  
And it isn't even like the Gallagher brothers are that bad, or at least they aren't that bad to him. He’d seen Liam just the other day, he’d given him a pat on the back and handed him a beer. Sure he’s pretty rough sometimes, pretty loud, but he didn't punch him in the face or anything.  
But maybe it was different for Damon, him being the front man and all. He seemed to be a lot more of a cocky, sarcastic bastard and maybe that pissed a lot of people off. Including the Gallaghers. He must have done or said something to prompt the scrunchy faced one to say he wanted him to die, that’s pretty extreme.  
That almost made Graham want to die, just thinking about Damon dying. He doesn’t even know what he would do if Damon died, probably have a massive mental breakdown and crawl into a hole. That’s what Graham would do, if Graham died, he has the feeling Damon wouldn’t even notice he was dead. He’d probably assume he was sleeping until he came to his senses and realized something smelled funky. 

The van halted for a moment, must have hit something, before continuing on the bumpy road. Graham was rocking about in the back of the tour van, side pressed up against the wall and staring out of the window.  
It was really late, maybe one or two in the morning, and everyone else was uncomfortably asleep in their stiff bunks. They’d played a huge gig, tickets had sold out incredibly quickly and by 7:30 there was a line reaching almost around the block outside the venue.  
After the show they met with some fans, got their pictures taken, and thankfully skipped the after party. Had they gone, they would have still been out and Graham would be curled up underneath the bar, cradling a bottle of champagne like it was his first born.  
Not that he’s doing much different now, he’s still practically holding onto a bottle for dear life and is still staring at nothing like it’s something. He’s still alone and feeling unseen.

He takes another drink, looking away from the window to instead stare at the curtain that separated the bunks from the lounge area. It was red, and the carpets were pool table green, and this couch was red. A color combination that made him want to throw up, maybe that’d make it look better. He laughs quietly to himself, almost impressed at how clever he was being.  
Beside him lay a hardcover book with Picasso’s ‘The Old Guitarist’ on the front, from what he could tell they were analyzations of Picasso’s blue series, with bits and prints of some of his art tucked into a pocket on the back.  
He’d found it in some weird antique store with a whole wall full of books about art, everything was incredibly overpriced and the book was all he could afford to get at the time. He’d had it for about a year now, brought it on every tour with him like he was actually going to sit down and read it but he never did.  
He remembered Damon’s face when he’d bought it, he rolled his eyes at him because he thought it was stupid.  
“Why don’t you just go to the museum to see them for yourself?” He’d asked, “It’d be a lot more exciting.”  
Maybe he was hinting that he wanted to Graham to a museum or something, trying to be nice and extend an offer for a night out. But Graham took it as an insult, a dumb one at that seeing as how one of Damon’s favorite things to do was read, and sat in the back seat on the ride home, cuddled up to the door. 

Another drink, the van hits a larger bump this time and he jumps.  
All this movement is making him sick. 

He reaches for the little handheld radio sitting on the table in front of him and switches it on, figuring that some music might make him feel better.  
The song that begins to play from the speakers is none other than Oasis’ “Talk Tonight”, which makes Graham feel even more sick. It isn’t that he doesn’t like Oasis, he really does like the music and thinks that most of their records are pretty good. It’s just that it’s becoming a joke nowadays, isn’t it?  
The both of them are, really. Oasis is a joke, people shouting the praises of Blur at the Gallaghers and Blur is a huge joke, everything is a joke. All of this is a joke, a poorly written joke straight out of the hack’s guide to joke telling.  
All of this was a poorly written script out of a straight-to-DVD film, this whole drinking until you can’t tell the stars behind your closed eyes from the ones up in the sky, all of these interviews and flashing cameras and shouting reporters, it’s all just some shitty joke.

A new song begins, Graham tosses the now empty wine bottle on the floor and opens the bottle sitting on the table. He take a large swig and looks back out the window.  
He sees the city lights past the cluster of trees and begins to feel the urge to scream at the top of his lungs. Soon he will be there, lost in concrete jungles and delusional.  
Cameras will go flashing one by one until the street rivals a lightning storm, reporters will demand the inside scoop, and maybe he'll get hit with a mic if he's lucky.  
He'll drag himself up the hotel stairs and throw himself onto the rock hard bed, fail to fall asleep before he's pulled off to some other pointless photo shoot or to some stupid store to buy stupid things he doesn't need.

_She looks like the real thing,  
She tastes like the real thing.. _

His existence was such a joke, all of this was so ridiculous. 

_My fake plastic love,  
But I can't help the feeling._

He stood up bottle in hand. The floor spun, the van jerked, his stomach flopped. 

_I could blow through the ceiling,  
If I could just turn and run._

The first thing to break was the bottle, the tip hit the wall and shattered almost instantly. Then came his fist to the window, leaving shards in his hand and a hole in the glass.

_It wears me out, It wears me out  
It wears me out, it wears me out_

Dave was the first to pull back the curtain to find Graham throwing the book into the window across from him, Alex after him, and then finally Damon.  
Alex hurried to grab onto Graham before he fell onto the floor, but was too late and Graham was on his knees. 

_If I could be who you wanted,  
If I could be who you wanted all the time._

_All the time,  
All the time. _

 

Graham means gravel, which is where he was thrown to at the end of the night.


	6. Being Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are things that need explaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took ages, sorry about that. also sorry about all the sad grahams, in my defense, i never said it'd be happy.

"You really oughta go get him, Damon." Alex is leaning back on the palms of his hands, watching Damon take quick drags off his cigarette. Dave is half asleep on the couch, a pile of glass lying inside a shopping bag beside him.  
"I can't believe that he just, he just broke the windows, just like that." Damon's eyes are wide, either with shock or anger- Alex can't really tell. "I mean, what the fuck are we going to do about this?"  
"Just.." Dave begins, soon trailing off. "Clean, just clean it up."  
"I am not going to be picking up his mess," he begins and Alex groans.  
"He should be in here cleaning this up himself, it was his bright idea to smash things wasn't it? Wasn't mine or yours or Alex's, it was Graham's and I'm not picking it up!" Damon’s starting to shake. 

The sun was beginning to slowly come up and Alex was shivering with how cold it was. The bus driver had turned off the air conditioning, explaining that it was a waste of gas now that the windows were smashed.  
'Outdoor air conditioning' he called it, which had made Alex want to break his nose. 

Alex yawned, running his fingers through hair. This was so childish, sitting around, refusing to clean up the mess of someone they should all be worried about. All Damon seemed to care about was the cost of the damages and Alex wondered if he even gave a shit that Graham just had some sort of colossal mental breakdown.  
"I'm gonna go get Graham." He got up, stepping around the broken glass and making his way out the door to the van.

Graham was lying on his back in the grass, watching the clouds move across the sky. The sound of the sliding door opening brought him out of his daydream for a few moments until the door closed and he slipped back into the almost non responsive state he had previously been in.  
When the bus driver had shoved him out of the van he'd stumbled and fallen, hitting his head on the concrete. Thankfully it wasn't too bad, he'd scratched the side of his face and there was now a bump on his head, but as far as he was concerned, he wasn't bleeding.  
As far as he was concerned.  
As Alex crouched down beside Graham, the first thing he noticed was the small pool of red liquid forming beside his head.  
"Graham?" He patted him gently on the side of his face that wasn't scratched, tilting his head to look at him.  
"Graham, are you with me?”  
He let out a quiet grunting noise, trying to let him know that he can hear him.  
“Are you alright?”  
“Mmm..”  
“Come on, let’s get back inside.” 

Alex gently picked Graham off the ground, carrying him bridal style back into the van. He took him back to the lounge area, the only place where there was good lighting. He placed him down on the couch, watching Damon from the corner of his eye. 

 

“Does he need bandages?” Asks Dave, who is straining to get a good look at Graham.  
“Yeah, probably..” Alex felt around Graham’s head, locating the bump that had formed. Graham lets out a pained whimper and digs his nails into the cushions. There was cut there that was bleeding profoundly. “Definately.”  
Dave rushed to his bunk, rummaging through his bags as quickly as he could.  
Alex looked back over at Damon. He was still in the corner, with his legs drawn to his chest and forehead resting on his knees. He could see Damon holding onto his necklace and faintly mumbling something he couldn’t make out to himself.

Soon Dave was back with a bandage, which he placed on the area Alex pointed to. Graham whimpered again, flinching as he applied pressure.  
“What happened?” Dave asks as he peels the cover off a smaller bandage.  
“Fell.” Graham replied, opening his eyes to see Alex and Dave staring down at him.  
Dave softly puts the bandage over the cut on Graham’s cheek, “Where did you fall?”  
“On the concrete.”  
“Ouch.”

Dave picks up the shopping bag filled with glass and tosses it into the trash can up front, muttering something to himself about a rubbish night. He doesn’t come back.  
Alex stayed beside Graham, kealing on the floor, trying to get him to calm down. 

“Does it still hurt?” He asks, Graham doesn’t answer. 

He’s almost 100% sure that this is one of those things that isn’t supposed to happen on tours, or ever, actually. This was beginning to get difficult, being in a band and all of that.  
It used to be so exciting, just him and his closest mates getting together and making music They’d all go out and get drunk, have fun, maybe get laid, go home and relax. Now just getting drunk was a hassle. Someone couldn’t go out because they were feeling ill, the other would moan and groan and throw a fit over it, or someone would make a joke and the other would deem it to be a little too hurtful.

At times he considered just calling it quits, giving up on this whole band thing and going to buy a house. Maybe get married, have some kids. Just settle down, get away from this whole fame nonsense, but then he’d meet some nice bird who’s dying to get in his trousers and he realizes that he loves this whole fame thing all too much to give it up. 

“Alex.”  
“Hmm?”  
“I want to be with Damon.” Graham presses his hands into the couch cushion and slowly sits up. “Alone, please?”  
Alex bites down on his bottom lip, nodding in reply. He made his way back into the rest area and as he climbed up to his bunk he told himself to stay up and keep an ear out, just in case. 

Graham ruffles his hair a bit, wincing as he feels the bandage on the top of his head. He hadn’t realized how much he was hurting until he sat up, when his head began to ache and his stomach had flopped.  
Damon hadn’t moved since Alex had helped Graham back into the van, he was still hiding his face in the corner. Graham wants to comfort him, but can’t bring himself to get up off the couch, if sitting up hurt this much than standing up would hurt more than anything.

“Damon.” His voice is quiet and scratchy, but it grabs Damon’s attention.  
“Hmm?” He didn’t look up, if anything he seemed to be hugging himself even tighter.  
“Please come here.” 

It took a bit, but eventually Damon pulled himself off the floor and hesitantly took a seat next to Graham, hands tucked between his thighs and facing the other way.  
“I’m really sorry, Damon.”  
Alex tenses up. _Why are you apologizing, Graham?_  
Graham massages his temples, not too sure what to say to him. He tries his best not to make eye contact, or ever look at him for that matter. Things are different with Damon, he can’t talk to him in the same way he can talk to Dave and Alex. They handle things differently from Damon, they’re a lot more levelheaded.  
He can tell that Damon is scared, he’s biting down onto his bottom lip hard and his nails are digging into his inner thigh. He won’t look at him, won’t say anything, so Graham figures that he’ll have to do most of the talking.  
He turns his head to look at him, a sharp pain spread from the center of his brain and out, causing him to wince. “I’m just.. You know how I’ve been feeling lately and that combined with too much al-”  
“Why?” Damon cuts him off with more hostility than expected, which Alex picks up on and sits up as much as he can in the tight space between the mattress and the ceiling.  
“Well, I, like I said y-”  
“No, no not that.” He’s looking at him now, tears are beginning to well up in his eyes and Graham begins to panic. “Not the sudden 2AM smashing spree or the screaming or the fucking blaring Thom Yorke, no, not that, although I could say a lot about that, no. I’m talking about, why don’t you just speak to me, why don’t you wake me up or write me a letter or just pull me aside and say; ‘Hey you know what, Damon? I’m not feeling too well, maybe we should slow down.’ or ‘Hey Damon, can I talk to you for a moment about something that’s going on in my delusional mind?’ Why don’t you tell me about any of this? It was be so much fucking easier if you just spoke up or even gave me the slightest hint that you’re going to have another psychotic breakdown. Give me a heads up or something, a sign. A sticky note on my chest or something, why don’t you communicate?”  
Graham can’t say anything, he isn’t too sure why he doesn’t tell Damon these things. He can’t quite place, why exactly he doesn’t confide in anybody. He just never has, he’s always stayed quiet and stuffed all his feelings down until he couldn’t stuff them down any further. He just sat around and downed bottle after bottle until he couldn’t walk straight anymore, drinking made him feel good, made him less anxious and more sociable. 

Damon runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. His eyes are closed now, but he’s shaking, Graham isn’t too sure if it’s out of anger or fear.  
Damon sits back up and faces Graham but doesn’t look at him, instead staring at the carpet. “You know I love you,” he begins in a quieter voice than before. Alex’s heart nearly stops beating. “You know that I’ll listen to you when you’re feeling upset, you know I’m here, so why don’t you speak to me?”  
“I don’t know.” Graham chokes out and his voice cracks, making him feel small.  
Damon doesn’t say anything else, just looks away.

Alex lies back down, breathing shallow and uneven. 

Damon keeps his eyes on the rising sun and Graham buries his face in his hands.


	7. Orion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex visits Graham in the middle of the night with something to show him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think that this is the best chapter so far, i really like writing alex however keep in mind that i know jack shit about astrology so this is all really flimsy. don't trust my knowledge of the stars, i'm very unreliable.

The last few days had been tense, Graham was sure that Alex knew about him and Damon. He'd started being an asshole to Damon, rolling his eyes at him and scoffing at everything he said. However, he wasn't being rude to Graham at all. If anything he was being almost protective, he’d help Graham up the stairs when he was too drunk, ask him if he was okay after each gig, little things like that that he hadn’t done before.  
Damon had picked up on Alex's attitude change and was being as bitter as he could possibly be without straight up telling him he hated his guts. Which he didn't, at all. He didn't hate Alex full time, only partially when he felt that Alex hated him. 

They were pulling up to the hotel they'd be spending a week or so in some place that looked almost like a mansion on the outside but was no better than any other cheap motel on the inside. The cost to repair the windows and other damage in the bus had left them a bit short on money, so this is what they had to settle for.  
As Graham dragged his suitcase behind him he thought back to the day before when the repairman has shown up at their last stop. Graham sat outside the building the van was parked outside of, sketching out thin lines that vaguely resembled the outline of the worker. They moved to often, though and he found himself drawing worker on top of worker, eventually filling the entire page with pictures of the same man. Dave had come out of the building holding two cups of coffee and handed Graham one, he then took a seat beside him, took a deep breath, and went;   
“So you and Damon, eh?” Graham felt his heart stop beating for a second and he nearly dropped his cup. He was speechless, he just sat there staring at the journal.   
Dave had patted him on back, a little harder than he expected, and just went; “Nice.” And said nothing after that, just sipped his coffee and watched. 

Graham wondered if it was really that obvious that there was something going on between the two and what would happen if the word got out to the press. He was alright with Dave knowing, not too sure how he felt about Alex, but Dave was a pretty nice guy. There was no way he’d be particularly bothered or anything, definitely wouldn’t pitch a fit like Alex currently was.   
Damon shouted something at the bellhop and Alex rolled his eyes, looking over at Dave and muttering something along the lines of ‘is that really necessary?’ to which Dave shrugged at. That hollow feeling settled in inside his rib cage and he found himself walking ahead of them, ignoring the employees offering to help him with his bags and the people scrambling to ask him questions. He just couldn’t care less right now about any of this, it was so exhausting.   
He pushed open the door to his room to discover the bed unmade and the television on, a lived in bedroom, uncleaned from the last visit. He closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, and told himself that it was only temporary. All of this is only temporary.  
He shut the door behind him, cringing at the loud creak it made, and looked over the room once again. There was a slide door hidden behind a red curtain which led to a small balcony littered with dead plants and broken glass, this was the hotel's most boasted about feature but Graham didn't find it all too impressive.   
He sat down on the bed and tried not to think about what he'd see if he were to bring a black light into the room. On the tv, Thom Yorke was looking out a window or something, on the pavement below Thom was a man lying on his side.   
_You do it to yourself, you do, and that's what really hurts is that you do it to yourself._  
This guy was really hard to get rid of, wasn't he? He was on the radio during his last episode and now he was on the tv in the hotel where he'd probably have his next episode. He was almost as inescapable as himself.   
Thom is staring at him now and he quickly changes the channel, suddenly feeling very uneasy now that he's realized that Radiohead is becoming a running theme in his life. 

 

It's later in the day, or maybe early in the day, seeing as how it's around midnight. Which means it isn't today anymore, but tomorrow, so early in the morning today which is tomorrow.. Which is.. Whatever.  
Graham's sitting on the bed, back pressed against the bed frame and his legs stretched out in front of him. The Evil Dead 2 is on, something he usually wouldn't be watching, but he was alone and bored so whatever was on was what he was left with.  
Right now the deer on the mantle is laughing at Ash and his hand is crawling in and out of holes in the wall. It's all very surreal and Graham wonders if it makes any more sense when you're high.   
There's a knock at the door and Graham jumps. He says to come in and a few seconds later, Alex is quietly opening and closing the door.  
"Hello, Alex." His stomach ties itself into a knot, hopefully he isn't here to discuss the Damon issue.  
"Helllllooo, Graham!" He smells of alcohol and cigarettes, something that can be both a good and a bad sign.  
Alex sits down beside Graham, watching the tv for a minute or two before suddenly bursting out into a giggle fit. Graham doesn't know what's so funny, but seeing Alex all happy and giddy makes him smile. It's a nice shift of tone.   
Alex looks back at Graham, "Did you.. Did you see that? His hand was, it, it was.." He snickered, grinning before he started laughing again.   
"You're so dumb, Alex." He was beginning to crack up now, too.   
"Hey! I'm not, you're dumb, this movie's dumb." Alex leans back so he's lying on Graham's legs, his arms half off the bed. He's just now realizing how long and skinny Alex is, he's got that almost sickly looking Goth type look to him and Graham wonders why Damon is sleeping with Alex. He seems to be just his type, or what Graham thinks might be Damon's type.   
Alex groans and stretched out a some more, his shirt going up his stomach and exposing a bit of his body. Graham examined how his hip bones jutted out from underneath his skin, fighting the urge to touch them.  
The other boy was glued the tv again, quietly giggling at the one liners and goofy looking puppets. It was all too tempting to reach out and trace the outline of his hips, why was he lying on him? Why was he even here?  
A few more minutes go by and Alex doesn't move until a commercial comes on, when he yawns loudly and rubs his temples. Graham watches him sprawled out across his legs, his obscene lips forming an 'o' shape when he yawned. This was so ridiculous.   
"Alex?" He asks quietly.  
"Hmm?"   
"Why are you here?" 

Alex scoffs at that, acting offended. "What? Don't want me here?" His hair is falling over his eyes and he's smirking up at him. Graham almost feels like he's doing this on purpose.  
"No! It's just.." He trails off, trying to find the words to explain.  
"I know, I know, love." Alex redirects his gaze at the ceiling and Graham wishes he'd look back at him. Love.  
"Honestly, I can't remember why I sh- Oh!" Alex suddenly leaps to his feet, faster than a cannonball, and begins to pull on Graham's arm. "I remember now, let's go, let's go."  
He's frantic, which makes Graham nervous so he hurries up. Alex leads him outside on the balcony, right to the rails and looks up.   
A blast of ice cold hair hits him and Graham looks up to the sky. He sees nothing but stars, but maybe that's the point.   
"It's winter, yeah?"   
"Yeah." _Feels like it, too._  
"Well from where we are here on this earth, we can see the stars clearly." Alex begins, getting really excited. Graham's watching him now, watching the way his eyes light up over something so small. "Not just because of our position, but also because of the season, see, see, look." Alex focuses on the sky again and is leaning a little over the railing but Graham doesn't notice, he's trying to figure out what Alex is pointing at.  
"You see that one?" He's seeing something he isn't.  
"Yeah, sure." He lies.  
"That's Orion the Hunter, the most obvious one, and it forms a quadrangle around these three 2-nd magnitude stars almost in a straight line."   
Alex might as well be speaking another language right now because Graham isn't understanding a word of what he's saying, he keeps listening though, just because it's Alex and he knows it'll be a long time till he sees him this excited about stars again.  
He's pointing at something else now. "To the upper left of Orion is Betelgeuse, it's the slightly orange one." This one Graham actually sees, which only draws Graham even more into Alex's little astrology lesson.  
"To the lower right is this bluish-white star, which is called Rigel. That's Orion's belt, not that hard to miss, right?" He looks over at Graham and smiles at him, he can't help but smile back.   
"Not hard at all." He replies.

There's a moment of silence between the two where they can't take their eyes off each other, Alex has dropped his over excited grin and is smilingly softer now. Graham wants to kiss him, but as soon as that thought enters his mind he begins to feel sick. This shouldn't be happening.  
Despite his uneasiness, Graham doesn't look away from Alex. He studies every detail of his face, his sharp cheekbones, the way his dark hair falls over his lovely brown eyes, his pale pink lips..   
"Anyway!" Graham jumps and watches, bewildered, as Alex focuses his attention on the stars again. Graham follows Alex's lead, waiting for him to begin explaining again. "If we go down and to the.. left of the 'belt' stars about 20 degrees, we find the brightest star in the sky, Sirius."   
Graham follows Alex's hand gestures until he's staring, wide eyed, at the dot in the sky that is so noticeable, he feels stupid for not noticing it earlier.   
"Sirius takes us to the lead star of Canis Major, The Big Dog of Orion." Alex's voice gets deeper for a little bit to emphasize on the 'Big Dog' part.   
Graham starts laughing at the sudden impression of what Graham assumed to be a big tough guy, which made Alex laugh.   
"What?" Alex managed between laughs.  
Graham straightened up, mimicking Alex.  
"What! It's true, The Big Dog!"


	8. Unexpected Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graham listens to some great music and bumps into a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hope i wrote him right but i'm not too sure.. also, i adore mbv and i just really wanted to write about graham and mbv. this one's pretty short but oh well.

The club was full of people and rodents alike, not that he could really tell the difference. Bodies slid past him, coming and going like the wind, shouting and muttering things he couldn't quite make out.  
He stood to the side of the venue, back pressed against the wall, fingers wrapped around the half empty glass so tightly he thought it might break.  
He can't see Damon or Alex from where he's standing, surprisingly enough neither one of them stand out too much in this crowd. 

He hadn't wanted to come (as usual) but once he discovered the lack of alcohol in his hotel room, he accepted the offer. He was now regretting his decision, seeing as how he was alone and the beer was stale. They didn't have wine or champagne, just beer that was so bad he was considering asking for water instead. There's so much chatter in the club that he can't even make out what song is playing, a million voices all mixing into one head ache inducing roar.  
Graham thinks back to earlier in the day, when he was out at some second hand CD shop with the boys. He'd gone through every letter in every genre, even the genres he didn't care too much for and at the end of the day left the store with three CDs. Radiohead's 'The Bends' (for research purposes), a Best of The Jam compilation that appeared to be homemade, and My Bloody Valentine's 'Loveless', an album he'd been meaning to pick up for ages now.  
The first album he'd listened to was Loveless and was jolted awake almost immediately by an absolutely blinding noise coming from his earphones. It took his ears a few seconds to adjust and settle, like when you walk out of a dark room into the sunlight and your vision is all dark and fuzzy for a some moments before everything adjusts. Except, instead of having a slight headache after your eyes adjust like you usually would, an enormous feeling of euphoria washed over him. This was possibly one of the loudest, nosiest, bizarrely astounding pieces of music he'd ever heard and once the nine track album was over, he immediately rewound it and listened to it again. The only things he could think to relate it to was maybe the loudness of Brian Eno's 'Needle in the Camel's Eye' or maybe the feedback of The Jesus and Mary Chain's 'Never Understand' or, actually, nothing at all. He was confident in saying that there was nothing out there now that sounded quite like My Bloody Valentine, quite like Only Shallow or When You Sleep. Brilliant.  
In the car on the way to the club he'd put on The Bends, partly to give it a chance and partly to make sure that these songs were real and that this band wasn't just something he'd made up while drunk.  
As they entered traffic he spotted an ad on the side of a building for a Radiohead gig. Thom Yorke is everywhere, he thought to himself, and promptly took out the CD and listened to the rambling of his band mates instead. 

And now he's here at the club, where the people are so loud he can't hear himself thinking. It isn't the same loud as Loveless, it's a painful loud with no amazing guitar effects and no soothing vocals to get him through. Just constant, probably unimportant rambling.  
Graham somehow manages to push his way through the tight packed crowd and out the front door, ignoring the various people trying to talk to him.  
Outside he presses his back up against the side of the building and takes a deep breath, relieved to be getting some fresh air. It's quiet out here, no people, no cars speeding past, nothing. Just silence and the smell of cigarettes, something that wasn't that big of an issue. It was almost relaxing, to be honest. 

"Graham?"  
He jumped slightly, looking over to his left with wide eyes. Standing there in a blue button down and a cigarette between his skinny fingers, was someone he felt he should see more often.  
"Jarvis?"  
"Yes?" He flashes a smile and takes another drag off his cigarette.  
"What are you doin here? I I mean I'm not saying you shouldn't be but what an odd place to bump into you!" Graham is ecstatic to see Jarvis, someone who appears to be sober and can actually hold a conversation.  
"Well, I wanted to get out of the hotel, take a walk or something ended up here." He seems to be thinking about what happened between leaving the hotel and ending up here. "It's funny how far you can get when you're caught up in your thoughts."  
"Eh, I I guess so, yeah." Graham rubs the back of his neck and pretends to drink some of the shitty beer.  
"Is the alcohol good?"  
"Nah, no it's, it's terrible."  
Jarvis nods, making a quiet ‘ah’ noise and awkwardly takes another drag off his cigarette. His attention is beginning to drift away from the conversation and Graham is desperately trying to figure out how to keep it going, eager to talk to his sorta-friend.  
“So I saw Disco 2000 on the telly yesterday,” he begins hesitantly. He feels like there’s some unwritten rule somewhere that you aren’t supposed to talk to musicians about their music or something, but he’s at a loss.  
“Yeah?” He looks back over at Graham, raising an eyebrow.  
“Yeah! I really love the concept for the video! I wanted to rewind it and read the text on each frame cos, cos y’know how it goes kinda fast ‘nd all and I was really curious about how to, about what it says and, and, and.” He trails off.  
Jarvis is watching him with his head tilted slightly, observing his body language and listening to the franticness in his voice. Graham begins to panic and it shows.  
He shifts, turning to face Graham and pressing his shoulder against the wall. Graham watches his move and clutches his glass a bit tighter.  
“I heard a rumor, and I’m not saying it’s true, and you don’t have to confirm it or not, but.” He pauses, dramatic effect, Graham assumes. “Are you and Damon, y’know..” Graham’s heart stops and Jarvis brushes his hair out of his face, Graham understand why everyone wants him. “Seeing one another?” 

Graham doesn’t know what to say, he wants to tell him the truth as he’s his friend, but at the same time his and Damon’s relationship (if you can even call it that) was supposed to be kept secret. Then again, it wasn’t even anything official. They’d exchanged kisses and embraces and ‘I love you’s’ and.. Other things. But they weren’t a couple, they weren’t dating, it was just being affectionate in a not-so-strictly-pals way.  
Jarvis is waiting and Graham has to say something or he might get upset.  
“We’re not really.. Dating, or seeing each other, or any of that.” He explains, struggling to find the words to describe their relationship. “We hug and we kiss, a lot. And he’s really nice with me but we’re not.. We’re just..”  
“Fucking.” He says it very casually, very nonchalantly, like it doesn’t matter at all or something and it throws Graham a bit.  
“That's a very, er, blunt way to put it but.. I suppose so, yes.” He replies.  
Jarvis nods and resumes his previous position, facing the street, a far-away look in his eyes and a cigarette held between his skinny fingers.


	9. Sweetness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice night out is ruined when Damon comes to an unsettling realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took really long but things are actually happening now so be happy. lyrics from bigmouth strikes again by the smiths, but i'm 100% sure you already know that.

A woman with perfect pink hair pulls Graham over to her and spills her drink on him in the process, but ignores it, or maybe she doesn’t notice, and begins to explain rather obnoxiously to Damon why Graham is the best member of Blur.   
Graham is pressed against her side, blushing like mad and looking down at the floor as to avoid eye contact with Damon, who’s leaning against the bar - watching Graham, who's hair is all ruffled and whose shirt is half tucked into his trousers. If he strains his hearing enough, he can sort of hear a recording of Damon’s voice somewhere else in the room which soon becomes unsettling as present Damon begins to speak.   
“See, though, Damon? You’re handsome and all but, but, but Graham, here..” The girl leans down and places a kiss on the top of Graham’s head, Damon tenses. “He’s just an absolute cutie in his Cheryl shirt and his cute little glasses, he’s just so darling, don’t you think?” She holds him closer and Graham covers his face with his hands to hide a blush, pushing up his glasses to his forehead to do so.   
“Yeah, Katie,” his voice gets quieter as he says her name and Graham realizes he must not know it. Now that he thinks of it, he doesn’t know her name either. “Graham is wonderful, I don’t know why he isn’t the frontman, I mean, just look at him.” Damon gestures to Graham with his glass and Graham parts his fingers to peek out at Damon, who’s standing there with that smirk of his that makes Graham’s heart melt.   
“I know, oh my god, Graham!” The girl, (Katie?), exclaims and ruffles Graham’s hair. “Why don’t you just take Dame’s place, huh honey?” She’s turned to face him now and Graham looks up at her from the spaces between his fingers.   
“I, I don’t know, I don’t know.” Graham starts to laugh, shaking his head from side to side and the girl pulls him into another tight hug and Graham keeps laughing.   
Damon’s watching them, trying to hide the dorky smile forming as he sees Graham smile genuinely for the first time in a long time. He isn’t drunk, maybe has a bit of a buzz but not totally plastered like Graham is, who tripping over himself and barely making any sense. He isn’t too sure when Graham got this drunk, he hadn’t seen him drink that much, only a glass or two when they first arrived. But then again, Graham had wandered off with Alex soon after so who knows what he’d gotten himself into.   
“Ah, I could really go for a cig right about now.” He glanced at Graham, praying that he catches his hint and he does.   
“Er, er, ah, er, Katie! Kaaatie!” Graham shuffles away from the woman’s embrace and explains clumsily that he’s going to go have a smoke with Damon. She gives him a kiss on each cheek, he does the same and is soon following Damon outside. 

The party was thrown by someone Alex knows, presumably just for the sake of throwing a huge party, but as of now was being dubbed “The Blur Bash” even though that wasn’t originally the reason for it. The ceilings were high and the wallpaper was extremely detailed, there is a bar in what Graham thinks is the living room, which is gigantic, just like everything else in the house. As they push their way to the front yard Graham wonders where Alex met such a wealthy person.   
“You know, Damon.” Graham begins, stumbling out the front door after Damon. “I, I heard that, that.. That David Bowie is here. David Bowie!”   
“Which David Bowie?” Damon asks, leaning against the wall. Graham watches Damon place his glass on the floor, search his pockets for a cigarette and a lighter, then observes as he lights it and takes his first drag.   
“I think there’s only one David Bowie, Damon.” Graham runs his fingers along the white railing of the patio, humming along to the song playing inside.  
“I mean what time period? Which Bowie?”  
“Now Bowie.” Graham replies, raising an eyebrow. Why would any other Bowie, but present Bowie be here? Time travel isn’t real.. Right?   
“Then I’m not interested.” Damon looks up at the roof over the patio, there are several brightly colored patterns painted up there and the more Damon looks at it, the more his eyes begin to burn. Another drag.   
“Awwww!” Graham pouts, “You’re so rude Damon, just, just so.. So wow.”   
Damon laughs, “So wow?”  
“So wow.” Graham hops up onto the railing, holding on it tightly to prevent himself from falling off. “You are so wow.”   
He doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head at him and smirks again. 

Graham stays quiet as he leans back to look up at the dark blue sky. Tonight the stars are out again and he tries to remember which stars are which, but instead begins to come up with his own names for them. “Carolyn.. Chuckie.. Libra.” He mumbles to himself. “Refrigerator.” He snickers at himself, nearly falling off the rail. “R- Refrigerator, Refrigerator. I gotta tell Alex that.”   
Damon put out his cigarette against the wall, a skeptical look on his face as he listens to Graham talk to himself (or maybe he’s talking to the stars?).  
He trails over to him, wrapping his arms around Grahams waist to make sure he doesn’t fall off because what a mess that would be and quietly asks; “Graham, honey, what are you doing?”   
“‘m naming the stars, Damon, cos I can’t remember what their real names are.” He sits up, meeting Damon’s gaze and smiles sweetly, leaning forwards to kiss Damon’s nose.   
“What are the stars named?” He asks gently, not taking his eyes off Graham for a second.   
"Well they're named a lot of things, Dames, but, er.." He leaned back again, squinting at the sky. "One is named, uh, Carolyn and another is Libra... Refrigerator......" He points to the brightest star he can see and says, very quietly, "That one's Damon."   
He leans forwards and cranes his neck at an odd angle to see the star he's referring to.  
"'s the most brightest, prettiest star up there. It's the star that all the other stars wanna be because it's the best one," Graham explains, his words slurring slightly.  
Damon can't help but smile and he pulls Graham closer to him, placing a kiss on his head. Graham leans up a bit against Damon, keeping his hands on the rails.   
Damon connected their foreheads, smiling like a little kid. "Hi."  
"Hi, Damon."   
Damon pet Graham's head, combing down his hair. "Do you like me?"  
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes." Graham scrunches up his face, the usual drunk Graham expression. "Yes! I looove you."  
"Love?" Damon's face went red for a moment or two, it had been a while since Graham told him he loved him, if he ever has.   
"Yes! Love, I," he pointed to himself. "Love," he made a heart with his fingers and then pointed to Damon. "You."   
A big, dorky smile made it's home on Damon's face and he didn't even try to hide it. He wanted Graham to know how happy he was, how giddy and fuzzy he make him feel.  
"You look so lovely when you do that, Damon." Graham traces Damon's jawline with his fingertips , "When you smile all cute like that." He leans up, closing his eyes and kissing him on the cheek.  
"It's you that makes me smile like that, you know." Damon runs his hands up Graham's sides and then back down to his hips, his hands locking together at his lower back. He was now between Graham's spread legs, looking down at Graham as he looked up at him. There was a sense of humbleness that swept through the two of them, a feeling of comfort and relief you get only from coming home after a long trip.   
Graham smiles ear to ear, laughing nervously. "I, I make you smile like that?"  
"Hmhm.." He kisses him gently, Graham leans into the kiss.   
One of Damon's hands makes its way up Graham's back and runs his fingers through his hair.  
"I love you so much, Damon."   
"I love you too, Gra." He pulls him into a tight hug, resting his chin on his shoulder.

Graham's smells like old records and cigarettes and.. And someone else. He tenses up, but doesn’t let go. Someone else, someone else’s cologne, something he recognizes but can’t put a name to. He moves away, sliding his hands into his blue jeans and tries not to look at Graham.  
He can’t bring it up now, Graham’s way too drunk and he gets so sensitive when he’s drunk he might make him have a meltdown. Something bad could happen if he said anything.   
“You okay, Dames?” Graham’s voice is tiny and he’s rubbing his eyes.   
“Yeah, yeah, totally.. Totally.” He leans against the wall and quickly finishes his drink. I guess we aren’t really a couple, though. He thinks to himself. So I really shouldn’t be bothered, I’ve slept with other people, too.. We’re just, we’re just fucking and.. And sometimes when he’s drunk he loves me. And sometimes when I’ve been drinking I say I love him too. It isn’t anything, though. It’s not anything. 

The door to the patio opens with a loud creaking noise and the music from inside seeps outside. Damon’s hearing is temporarily blocked by Morrissey’s whine,

_Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking_  
When I said I’d like to  
Smash every tooth in your head. 

Alex walks onto the patio with a girl on each arm, going on about the bass in Girls & Boys - or something like that. One of the girls leans up and whispers something to the other girl and as they pass by Damon catches a whiff of Alex’s cologne. 

_Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking_  
When I said by rights you should be  
Bludgeoned in your bed. 


	10. In an Instant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon's time out takes a grim turn when he sees an accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm..  
> Me and Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul  
> Mad GirL's Love Song by Sylvia Plath

Damon sits in the rental car he’d gotten the day before, stuck in a traffic jam. It’s raining now, and there’s a soul song on the radio. Everything has a greenish-blue tint to it, the pattering of the raindrops against the car accompany the music quite well. 

_Me and Mrs. Jones,_  
 _we’ve got a thing goin’ on._  
 _We both know it’s wrong,_  
 _but it’s too strong to let it cool down now._

He sighs and glances out the driver’s window, out at the streets littered with rushing pedestrians in dark coats, taking shelter under umbrellas and hats. A woman pulls her daughter along the curb, shouting at her to hurry up. 

_We meet evr’y day at the same cafe,  
Six-thirty and I know she’ll be there. _

Someone honks behind him and he doesn’t bother to look back to see who just pulled that dick move because, really, who cares? It doesn’t matter if he looks back or not, it won’t make them any less frustrated or him any less upset. The cars on the road will remain bumper to bumper and the rain will keep pouring, nothing will change. 

_Holding hands, making all kinds of plans  
While the jukebox plays our favorite song. _

One of the lights turns green, he isn’t too sure which one it is but it isn’t his, so he doesn’t move. He watches the people on the sidewalk begin to jumble up into one crowd as they all make their way towards the corner of the street. A woman with long brown hair and a brightly colored dress is the last to join the group. Damon studies the patterns on her dress and how they move as she jumps up and down to get a look at the people ahead of her.  
The light turns red and the people begin to move and the cars in Damon’s lane begin to slowly pick up speed again. He follows the car in front of him, still watching the woman. He’s on his own now, there’s no one beside or in front of him anymore. The music gets louder and the rain seems to get harder, he grows uncomfortable.  
The light turns green before the woman can finish crossing and in a blink of an eye, as Damon drives by, she’s met with a black Cadillac. He let’s out a loud gasp, his heart practically jumps out of his chest and he slams on the gas, speeding up past the accident. 

_Me and Mrs, Mrs Jones,  
Mrs Jones, Mrs Jones.. _

He switches off the radio as the brass begins to scream. He’s short of breath now and he’s thinking about Graham, the one he left alone at the party a few days ago, the one who he hadn’t seen since, the one who could be roaming around the crowded city as he sits in this car shaking. He flinches as he comes to a stop, hands shaking so badly he can barely steer correctly but when the light flickers to green again he manages to pull into the parking lot of a local coffee shop. 

 

He holds his journal full of cut out poems as tightly as possible when he’s standing in line, afraid to let go of it. His eyes are about ten miles wide and he’s still trembling uncontrollably. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this isn’t supposed to happen.  
He orders a hot chocolate, then takes his seat at a corner booth. He opens his journal to a random page, his stomach flops at the movement. He leans forwards, arms folded across his stomach and begins reading. 

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;_  
 _I lift my lids and all is born again._  
 _(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

_The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,_  
 _And arbitrary blackness gallops in:_  
 _I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

_I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed_  
 _And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane._  
 _(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

_God topples from the sky, hell’s fire’s f-_

“Damon? Damon Albarn?” The woman at the register asks and he motions for her to bring the cup to his table. She does and asks for an autograph in the process. She extends to him a napkin and a blue pen, which he takes and struggles to write some words of wisdom on.  
He apologizes for being so ‘out of it’ and she forgives him, then frantically explains to him how much he means to her. He wishes he could listen but everything is in one ear and out the other, his brain can’t focus at all and he just smiles and nods then says ‘thank you’ when she excuses herself to attend to the other customers.

He stares at the poem in front of him.  
 _I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._  
 _(I think I made you up inside my head.)_  
He can barely lift the cup to his lips to take a drink, but somehow manages. He keeps repeating the line over again in his head, half of his mind on the poem and the other half still stuck on Graham. How long had Graham and Alex been messing around? Had it been as long as he and Graham had been? Did Alex mean anything to Graham? Did the woman mean anything to anyone? Was she having an affair? Was she loved?  
It’s impossible to rid his mind of the woman. He pictures her dress, decorated with beads and all in warm colors. Reds, oranges, and yellows all creating a beautiful pattern that shaped her perfectly. Her long brown hair that stretched down to her waist, the way the patterns moved like a wave as she jumped to get a better look.  
She was there for a moment, and then she was gone.  
Just like that.

He bit into his bottom lip, placing his elbows on the table and rubbing his temples.  
The rain raged on outside and a smooth jazz track played on the stereo. 

 

That night in his hotel room he sits Indian style on his bed and watches a woman being lifted into the back of an ambulance. Her name is Veronica Rios and her dress is made up of reds and oranges and yellows and she’s smiling.


	11. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh er uh yeah yeah.  
> yeah.  
> i don't like this one but i hope you do.

He doesn't remember exactly how it happens, but he finds himself huddled up outside the hotel clutching one bleeding hand and struggling to keep his composure. His glasses are broken and his short brown hair is matted with blood.  
He remembered trying to do it to himself, he remembered screaming when he dug the glass into his arm and immediately panicking. He didn't think he would actually do it, he thought he'd just chicken out like he always does but he actually did it.  
He remembered the look on each of his band mates faces as they scrambled into the room and he can't tell who seemed more scared, Alex or Damon. Does it really matter anyway? It was getting bad again, regardless of who cared more, neither of them could do anything to help him. He was beginning to become consumed by the hole forming inside his rib cage, it was sucking him in.  
He gets up as he heard familiar voices in the lobby, opting to run away from the problem rather than try to fix it. As usual.  
It isn't that he doesn't appreciate their concern, it's just that he finds it incredibly difficult to explain to them how he's feeling. He knows they all want to help him, he knows that they all do genuinely care but it's just so hard to make them understand. They all think he can do it, that he can make it, but the fact of the matter is that he just can't.  
He wishes he could join them and enjoy their lives, they've got it way better off than most  
people and he should be thankful for that but he just can't bring himself to appreciate it. Why should he be happy with something that's beginning to rapidly tear him apart? How can they handle it so well? What was their secret? What did they know that he didn't and why wasn't he told?  
He can feel himself beginning to lose his balance as his surroundings become blurred and take the shape of blobs. He's already pretty far away from the hotel, which is good, he wants to make sure he's as far away from that riot as he can get but he's also beginning to sense the fear coming up from the bottom of his stomach and he just wants to crawl underneath the covers and sleep for a thousand years. 

This would be their last night in this city and then they'd spend a day or two on the tour bus and then a day or two in another city, then another, and finally home. The touring madness was coming to an end, and good riddance. If he had to endure another month of this shit, he might just leave the band all together. They could find another guitarist and play the rest of the gigs and then Damon could drop by and punch him in the stomach for unexpectedly ditching them. Perfect.

He's coming up on a small bar that, surprisingly, isn't playing Radiohead. He thought that was custom now, every time he was beginning to collapse in on himself again Radiohead is supposed to play.  
He tightens his grip on his bleeding hand, letting out a painful hiss as a sharp pain shot through his body. And then numbs. He wonders if that's how it feel when you put a spike into your vein, hurts for a second, maybe less, then you press slowly and.. And.. Bliss comes in like a tidal wave. Takes you over and pulls you into it, you're completely gone - like you were never really there in the first place - and it sounds like the ocean, too. You can hear the water rushing past your ears and maybe the caws of the birds overhead, distant and muffled. Echoing around your skull in circles and then you sink to the floor of the ocean and it all goes dark. 

Maybe.  
He wouldn't know, he's never tried it. But he thinks he knows someone who's might have tried it. He wonders just how stupid everyone thinks he is, I mean, it's a bit obvious when you live with the fucker, innit? He spends more time with Damon than he does with his own mother, he doesn't have a clue what his mother's morning routine is but he knows for a fact that his boyfriend.. lover.. friend.. thing. Has developed a habit that he can't entirely say he's fond of but isn't going to stop either. It's concerning, it really is, it's annoying and it's blood boiling and he can barely stand the thought of him shooting up and- And fuck.  
He lets go of his hand and opens it up, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. Large shards of a beer bottle were currently lodged in his palm and just thinking about Damon's habit seemed to make it ache even more. His wrist is bleeding profusely as well, which is incredibly alarming and is beginning to make him sick, so he takes off his hoodie and wraps it around his wrist and hand. It stings but he can't see the blood anymore, so it's okay.  
Someone's trying to leave the bar and there's a taller gentleman attempting to pull him back inside but the redhead isn't having it. He's holding a glass with a black cloth wrapped around it and he seems to be shaking. The closer Graham gets to the bar the clearer he can hear the man, he's practically begging to be excused and eventually, after much pleading, he is. 

He can't help but feel that he's seen him before, somewhere, maybe on television? Maybe he's in a commercial or something.. A TV show? A Lifetime movie?  
He's close enough now to hear the muffled music coming from inside the bar, some throwaway electronic track and he doesn't blame the man for wanting to leave. He takes a seat on one of the two tables set up outside and buries his face in his hands.  
Likewise. 

Graham made his way to the table and, in his weak, squeaky voice, asks; "Can I sit here?"  
The man parts his fingers and peeks out at him, "Go ahead." He replies and his voice sounds just as weak.  
So he does, sits down with a pained grunt and rests his injured arm on his lap. The man doesn't say anything to him, but he's making him incredibly nervous with his silence.  
He opens his mouth to speak, but the man suddenly sits up and tucks his hands between his thighs and holy shit.  
"You're, you're, you're.. Oh my god." It's finally happened, he's finally met him. He's actually real and the others are in there and they all.. They exist.  
"Yes, God. And you're Graham Coxon." He reaches out, standing up for a moment, and places his fingertips on Graham's head. "You have been blessed."  
Graham breaks out into a fit of nervous laughter and he just giggles quietly, settling back into his seat.  
After some not really awkward but slightly uncomfortable silence he goes; "Thom Yorke, yeah, that's.. Wow! You're definitely you!"  
He nods, "I am definitely me." He rubs his eyes and Graham tries his best to regain his composure. _Act cool, be cool, be cool.._  
"You know, uh, eh. This is gonna sound weird, but y'know, like.. Your record? The Bends?" Thom nods and makes a quiet 'hm' sound. "It's been sorta the soundtrack to my, and I don't mean this in a rude way because every track is brilliant and you're brilliant, but it's been the odd soundtrack to my slow descent into.. Like, my breakdown."  
"Breakdown." He repeats, opening his eyes and glancing at the hoodie wrapped around his hand. "I'm flattered."  
"No, no, no, no! I don't mean," he moves forwards a little too quickly and the sharp pain is back again. "Ah, fuck, shit."  
Thom raises an eyebrow at him, leaning forwards to get a better look at his hand.  
Graham's unwrapping the hoodie from his arm and lets it slide to the floor beside his chair. "Bloody fuckin.. Ow, ah, okay. Okay."  
"Shit." Thom switches to the seat closest to Graham and turns it to face him. "Lemme see that, okay? Looks like hell."  
"God, feels like it too." Graham mumbles and extends his arm towards Thom.  
"Fuck, man. Okay." He takes a deep breath, "Open it up all the way."  
"Are you insane!?" He exclaims, growing panicked. "That's gonna hurt like hell!"  
"Then it'll feel the way it looks, c'mon. Do it." 

Graham thinks he can see Thom psyching himself up for this, whatever 'this' is.  
So Graham opens up his hand all the way and doesn't even attempt to hold back the screaming.  
"You aren't being murdered, okay? Calm down." He says and Graham thinks that's supposed to be comforting in some odd way, so he decided to take it like that and tries to relax. Everything'll be just fine.  
He's so busy trying to convince himself that everything will be a-ok that he doesn't notice when Thom gently takes hold of the largest piece of glass, however he does notice when he very quickly yanks it out of his palm. He lets out this incredibly large scream and Thom makes a pained face, like he's the one having glass ripped out of his flesh.  
"What'd you do that for??" He's shaking now and he can't seem to make himself stop.  
"Well it can't stay there forever, can it?" And then, without any warning whatsoever, he quickly pulls out the other shard.  
"Jesus fucking Christ, fuck.. Fuck." Graham attempts to move his hand away, but Thom holds onto his arm before he can get away.  
"Hold on." He unwraps the cloth around his glass and dips a corner of it in his water inside, then gently dabs it on the cuts in Graham's hand and arm. "What happened to you?" He asks, and Graham's stomach drops. Why is this happening?  
"Disputes." He quickly says, "Within the band. Among us, had a fight. And, and.." He trails off and he knows Thom isn't stupid, he knows that he knows he's lying. "And I got so scared I hurt myself."  
Those last few words seemed to have an effect on Thom as he tensed up for a second before focusing back on Graham's injuries. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and why is this happening again? Why does this happen every single night? Why can't he just have one good night with no tears?  
"And I was just so scared, no one would quit yelling and then they found me and it was like they weren't yelling at all in the first place." Graham wipes away the tears beginning to fall with his free hand. "Damon was so terrified, I could see it in his eyes, he started shaking and and I never wanted to hurt him like that. I don't care about me, I don't care if I'm bleeding or broken or hurt in any way. I just don't want Damon feeling bad.  
And then Alex, too. He practically screamed, it was so terrifying I mean.. He seems to hide, too, when he's scared and that's what he did. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and covered his eyes. I looked away, then. It was humiliating, it was terrifying. I didn't mean to." 

Thom isn't saying anything, just listening and tending to his wounds as best as he can with his shaky hands. Graham's trembling so much the buttons on his coat are clanking against the metal of the chair and he wishes he could just stop it but he knows that isn't possible now. He's too far gone.  
"I just want it to be happy, or not even happy if that's too much to ask. Just okay. I just want everything okay." He looks away from his hand as Thom carefully wraps the cloth around it. "Is that too much to ask?"

Thom shakes his head. "Not at all."


	12. Reaching for Fake Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been months, but i was suddenly struck with the inspiration to come back to this - solely to finish it. one more chapter after this one, folks, and then it's done.

“Then why is it so impossible to achieve?” Graham asks, voice cracking. 

He watches Thom as he awkwardly crosses his legs and leans forwards, arms folded across his stomach like he’s ill. Graham can feel the tension building between the two, he knows Thom is about to say something to him that may or may not give him the answers to all his problems.   
He thinks to himself as Thom slowly raises his gaze to look at him again; _This could change everything._

“You know, Graham..” He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m honestly surprised that the best hasn’t come your way. I see things sometimes, notice little things when we’re in the dressing room watching numbing television that Phil and Ed and the rest of them don’t. Like the way you stare at Alex when he swishes his hair from side to side, or the way Damon always seems to be drawn to your side of the stage like a magnet, and I always think to myself ‘these boys are smitten,” you know what I mean?” 

Graham can’t help but smile at the transparency of their situation, and nods in agreement. 

“And now that I’m sitting here with you outside this bar, it occurs to me that maybe you three really aren’t as deeply entwined as you may have thought. I don’t mean to invalidate what you’re feeling, or what you feel you felt, but the reality of the situation is that you are all off your heads on drugs and gin, or whatever it may be. And then with all this constant attention, too, I mean.. Do you really think that’s any proper way to fall in love?” 

Thom’s silence is sign he’s expecting an answer, and as Graham sits there dwelling he can’t seem to properly muster up one. Be it the denial or be it the guilt, he can’t seem to form coherent syllables anymore. So he just lets his body do his brain’s work for him, shaking his head ‘no.’   
“I don’t either.” He mumbles, running his dainty fingers along his jawline and turning for a brief moment to peer into the tinted windows at the long haired person still at the bar. He smiles fondly for a few seconds, not really even long enough to be captured on camera, and then looks back at Graham, who's finally beginning to think up the english language.  
He thinks of Damon, young Damon sitting in his bedroom singing along to records he shouldn’t be playing so loud. Damon running across the schoolyard to pull Graham into his arms, pulling him off to the library.. Performing on stage in front of the student body, proclaiming his lines loud and proud in his cheap home made costume - reaching for fake stars.

“But what if the love developed before the madness?” He asks eagerly, tilted his head to get a better look at Thom.   
“Then you have to evaluate the situation, Graham.” He replied. “You have to take a step back out of your own life and say to yourself; ‘Is this the same love I felt in grade school?’ ‘Is this love still safe?’ ‘Is this still the person I fell in love with all those years ago?’ And if the answers are all ‘yes,’ then it’s for you. And if even one of those answers is a ‘no,’ well.. I hate to tell you this but it’s time to get out of there.” 

Graham remained silent for at least a minute, watching Thom watch him. The questions were ones he’d never considered asking himself. It had never occurred to him that maybe the love, and hell, maybe even the person themselves wasn’t the same. 

He leans back in his chair, looking up at the stars he still couldn’t name, and he asked himself; 

Is this the same love I felt in grade school?  
 _Yes, of course._

 

Is this love still safe?

He paused his mind to recall the past events, the drug intake, the alcohol abuse, the yelling and the screaming.. Was that really what you’d call ‘safe?” 

_No._

Is this the person I fell in love with all those years ago?  
A long pause and then, inevitably, _no._

He couldn’t change the facts. No matter how much he wished he could twist and turn the aspects of his life into better things, the facts were that Damon just wasn’t the same as he had once been. He slurred, he procrastinated, the light in his eyes didn’t shine anymore. It was as if his light had been dulled by their surroundings. He wasn’t the angel he once loved. 

 

He took a deep breath and sighed, straightening out and looking Thom straight in the eyes. “Two no’s out of three.” He announced, voice shaky.

Thom then rose from his seat, brushing off his lap and tucking in his chair. 

“Then you know what you need to do.”


	13. Till I Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end.

In the bus he’s come to know as home, he finds himself playing and old mix he he hadn’t picked up in years, lying on the pool table matting colored floor of the backroom. His thoughts paced over the events of the night. Alex had scoffed, again, God damn him, and he finally reacted. He raised his hand and drew it across his face, leaving a mark, and then the yelling and shoving began. 

He had been so caught up in the racing of his pulse and the anger in his chest to realize that Graham, small and lonely, had been staring wide eyed in fear at their dispute. And when he ran up to his separate hotel room, no one had even noticed until a few minutes later, when Damon had brought up the touchy topic of Graham’s infidelity and accused Alex of being the culprit. 

When the two managed up the stairs into Graham’s room, they saw him bleeding and spiritually broken, a heap of mangled consciousness and mental bruises. 

And then he was gone.   
Out the door like nothing happened. 

_And let me tell you I'm dreaming..._

_Let me tell you that I'm dreaming to the twilight, this town has got me down.  
I've seen all the highlights, I've been walking all around.. _

 

Was it his doing? Did he, somehow, possibly inadvertently, drive Graham to such an act? Did he ruin the angel? His heart nearly stopped beating when he began to ask himself these questions. But that was the reality of their situation. 

He hadn’t even realized the intensity of their relationship. Yet when he looks down at the marks up his arms, he realizes that this is all the evidence he really needs to tell confirm that he, in fact, is the source of the pain.

His body was aching, yearning for some relief after such a stressful night of arguing and mutilation, yet he couldn’t even muster up the energy to make his way to his stash. 

He just lie there, motionless, eyes barely open and staring hopelessly at the ceiling. Praying to whatever God would listen, that Graham get home safely soon. 

 

The mix had nearly ended, last track, and Damon had only managed to move far enough to reach the tape deck to switch over onto the side that was playing now. No advances had been made aside from the seed of guilt that had been planted inside him. His mind still raced constantly, running over ideas he had already considered and conclusions he had already reached. It seemed that there was nothing else that he could do.

_A lovestruck Romeo, sings the streets a serenade_  
Laying everybody low, with a love song that he made  
Finds a street light, steps out of the shade  
Says something like, "You and me babe, how about it?" 

The door slid open and Damon tensed, shutting his eyes tightly. He prepared himself for the yelling, the shouting, the potential violence. But as he lay there biting down on his lip, he was only greeted with silence. He pressed his hands to the floor and pushed his body upright, staring at the velvet curtain separating the bunks from the lounge, waiting. 

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of anticipation, he heard the faint sound of shoes against the rough carpeting and finally, a body to put to the sound. 

Graham stood, looking properly wrecked, with his hands holding one another in front of him. His eyes watched Damon there on the floor, looking up at him with eyes wide. 

“Graham..” He mused, trying not to show too much emotion just in case their feelings differed. “You’re okay.” He continued, teeth grazing his lip.

“Yeah,” he started, moving his arms to hug his body gently. “I’m okay.” 

“Well thank god.” Damon replied, lying back down on the floor.

 

Graham ran his fingers through his hair, carefully stepping over Damon to sit down on the booth behind him. “We need to talk.” He mumbled, listening to the lyrics of the song playing for a few moments, afraid to continue.

_Juliet says: Hey it's Romeo, you nearly gimme a heart attack_  
He's underneath the window, she's singing, "Hey la, my boyfriend's back  
You shouldn't come around here, singing up to people like that"  
Anyway, what you gonna do about it? 

Damon let his head tilt in his direction to make eye contact, soft eyes looking up at the other worriedly. “Of course.” 

“I met Thom Yorke outside this pub I ended up at after I left, the one down the street from the hotel and-”   
“There’s a pub down the street?” Damon interjected, raising an eyebrow at him.   
“Yes, Damon, there is. But that isn’t the point.” He continued despite the movement of Damon’s lips to persist. “I was talking to Thom, y’know? And I brought up our situation, praying that maybe he of all people had some answers for me. But he raised more questions, which I turned out to have the answer to and ..” He trailed off, staring beyond Damon now, too pained to look him directly in the eyes. “And I’ve decided that there’s no way we can keep on like this.”

The look in Damon’s now panicked gaze was the worse look Graham’s ever seen in his life, like the boy had just witnesses a tragic accident right before him. And immediately upon seeing his gaze he felt his heart sink, but didn’t falter. 

“It’s just not going to work.” 

_Ah Juliet, when we made love you used to cry_  
You said: I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die  
There's a place for us, you know the movie song  
When you gonna realize, it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet? 

Graham raised from his seat, arms clenching his chest, and stepped over Damon once more.

This time Damon followed, hurrying to his feet and calling out his name.

“You’re really going to let Thom-fucking-Yorke make your decisions for you!?” He shouted, voice weak despite it’s volume.   
“I’m not letting Thom Yorke make my decisions for me, you dickwad! I’m making this decision, Damon! Me! Not you or Alex or Dave or fucking Thom Yorke, not anyone but me!” He retorted, turning quickly to face him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Don’t you fucking get it, Damon? Don’t you understand when you look into a mirror? How can you see the same damn thing staring back at you each time? How can you stand there and act like you’re still Damon, like you’re still the same boy who used to give me flowers each morning before rehearsals? Don’t you realize that isn’t who you are anymore?” 

Damon stood there, hands now limp at their sides and eyes staring wide at Graham; looking like he’d just been kicked and beaten his whole life, only to have to say goodbye to the only thing that’s ever dealt him a good hand. And it hurt. The sight of Graham there, yelling the truth at him like he just didn’t care about what happened anymore made him ache more than any withdrawal ever could. This is Graham, this is him. And it’s over. 

“You’re not who I used to love, Damon. You just aren’t. I don’t know if it’s the fame or if it’s the fucking drugs, but whatever it is it’s ruined us both. And I can’t do it, Damon. I can’t.” 

And in what felt like a blink of an eye, he was gone. 

And Damon was alone, weak and shocked, standing in the lounge. 

 

_I can't do the talks, like they talk on the TV_  
And I can't do a love song, like the way it's meant to me  
I can't do everything, but I'll do anything for you  
I can't do anything 'cept be in love with you  
And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be  
All I do is keep the beat, and bad company  
And all I do is kiss you, through the bars of a rhyme  
Juliet I'd do the stars with you, anytime.. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's over. the songs featured in this one are tom waits' 'virginia avenue' and the last song is dire straits' 'romeo and juliet.' thank you to anyone who read this whole thing, and revisited it even after all the months of it not being updated. see ya later.


	14. updates, questions

this is the author here (obviously), and i was thinking of these blur works tonight and was wondering if maybe those who enjoyed these would be interested in a slight reworking and rewriting of 'FEELING CALLED LOVE,' as well as completion of 'violents and knives' ?

i'm going to try to be more active and attentive to this account (maybe write some new things for other bands of the same genre), and depending on the comments / reception of this posting - editing and massively tweaking this story.

much love and thanks to all who read and those who have left thanks in return x

L


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